Once Upon a December
by Eurydice Is Gone
Summary: In her old age, a princess never called to action in a world that left her numb recalls the closest thing to truly living she's ever had. Winter's solace provides no answers as her time of death draws near. Oneshot, DarkLinkxZelda


The woman, no longer graced by youth's blessing, pulled the white curtain of her window back. Despite her age, her blue eyes still see the endless, gentle blue glow of the beginning day, casting dim shadows on winter's white blanket. Snow fell gently from a sky so full of clouds, it was a solid sea of grey-blue obscuring the sky above.

The once proud Queen Zelda furrowed her brow a bit, as a familiar sensation had returned. A small, but persistent, ache pulling away at her heart, like a small child trying to pull her in a direction it wanted to go. Once more, she tried to satisfy her dull wound, placing a single hand over it as she tried once more to recall the memories that had refused to come. She searched deep within her mind, trying once more to prod at the memories that both pained and evaded her so.

She knew he was a man, and that he was a very distinct looking man. He was hard to miss; he had the pointed ears of a Hylian, but his ash-grey skin and bright red eyes gave him away as something very much unlike herself. In her mind, blue, snowy skies gave way to midnight secrets and golden sunlight weaving through green leaves. Despite the odd tone of his skin, she vaguely remembers the warmth in grasping onto his hand, the firmness of his grip latched onto her own.

Despite these sun-lit memories, however, there was a darker, somewhat bitter edge to them. This came up soon enough, as it always did. However, this part was always lost when the soul-searching stopped, buried once more in the deepest pits of her mind.

The way he ran his fingers through her hair was laced not with any 'pure' sort of love at all. She knew that. He TOLD her that. The way he grasped her, the hunger that flashed to the surface of his eyes, these things revealed his true intentions. Sentimental longing briefly gave way to bitterness, as the Queen gently prodded at the silver necklace around her neck with her fragile fingers. The deep blue stone pendant was cold to the touch, but pleasant to look at.

Just like herself in her youth, if she recalled correctly.

Oh yes, sure she was dressed in only the finest fabrics, clad in the fanciest jewels, and draped in the best furs available when the snowfall came. Sure her bodices were tight, revealing the curve of her waist. Sure her golden hair was styled with all the grace human fingers could possibly muster. But these gestures were for nobles; men and women who only saw her as a **thing** to claw and paw at, a stepping stone or perhaps a rung on the ladder to wealth and power.

Ripping away the finery for fleeting moments of lust, this gem could only be warmed by the touch of others.

Even when she was claimed as some noble bastard's bride, her supposed mate for life only touched her long enough to bestow children into the world and nothing more. Yes, both men were guilty of lust, but the strange man at least cared enough to make her FEEL, if she recalled correctly.

Tears began to fall down her cheeks, silent but quivering. The reality had dawned upon her after so many years; yes, he was a lustful bastard.

But that was the closest she'd come to experiencing true living.

Sitting on fine chairs, stuffed in fine fabrics all day long, forcing beautiful of empty smiles like a living doll…These things were her life. No great war ever came upon this generation; though there were many times she begged it would. She begged that darkness would fall upon the kingdom, and give her a call to arms. A call to fight and struggle, to live and potentially die. To truly and actually LIVE.

But that call never came

The shadow of the hero loved to hang around her in her youth, and his presence tricked her. It gave her false hope, for she thought if his shadow was ever-looming, then the figure it was cast from must be near as well. And if the hero was near, then so too must great evil. But he was just a lie; a lie that fed off her youth, while it graced her. Of course he abandoned her long ago.

Of course he just used her.

But if she was a mere tool in the game of life, at least being used was better than sitting on a shelf and left to rot.

This was the conclusion she came to long ago.

Turning from the window, the Queen lets the curtains fall gently back into place. The snowy scenery is covered up by white fabric, leaving the Queen cut off from the world once more. With a quiet, sad sigh, she began the long trek back to her room, for her tired bones were not meant for the world much longer. She could feel it; no one would believe her, but she knew.

And it made her genuinely smile for the first time in ages.

As the Queen walked down the stone halls of the grand castle, her blue robes covering her frail, ever-paling body, the thought that had plagued her in recent years danced upon her mind. It played and flickered in her mind during the whole long, bitter trip back to her final resting place. This gemstone's shine was soon to fade, and forever lose its color, buried under dust and bones in places rarely trekked by men. She knew that. But the question still begged to be answered, and so she humored it to stay in her mind. The question prodded her gently the whole day, until she laid her down upon her pillow and let her breath join eternity in oblivion.

If only she could remember his name.


End file.
